Page 12 of Taken Away

Aubrey’s hand froze on her water glass. Her pulse skipped. Ashford Hospitality Group was a private corporation; executive compensation packages were locked behind NDAs and secure HR servers. How could an old woman running a winery in the Blue Ridge match her salary down to the penny?

It didn’t feel like casual curiosity. It felt like someone had quietly kept track of her life from a distance for years.

“She—how would she know that?”

Deck looked down, tracing a thumb over his file folder. “Mabel kept up with ye more than ye realize, lass.”

Eleanor continued. “There are conditions attached to the inheritance.

“‘Provided, however, that Aubrey Langford shall reside upon the property and actively participate in the management of Blackwood Estate Winery for a period of no less than three hundred and sixty-five consecutive days. She must also work in the business during that year in an active management role. She may not sell, transfer, or abandon the business during that period.’”

“Absolutely not,” Aubrey said, her corporate defenses slamming down like iron gates. “That is legally unenforceable.”

“‘Upon satisfaction of these conditions,’” Eleanor read on, ignoring the interruption, “’title shall vest fully and irrevocably in Aubrey Langford on the three hundred and sixty-sixth day.’”

She turned the page.

“‘If, however, Aubrey Langford shall refuse this bequest, fail to complete the required term, or attempt to liquidate Blackwood Estate Winery or its lands during that year,’” Eleanor went on, “’the real property known as Blackwood Estate, together with all vineyard acreage and the main residence, shall pass into the Blackwood Land and Conservation Trust, to be held in perpetuity and operated by a managing board consisting of my attorney, Eleanor Harper; my winemaker and business partner, Bennett McCrae; and a third member appointed by the Jackson County agricultural council.’”

A low murmur rippled through the room.

Eleanor glanced up, then back to the text.

“‘No member of my immediate family shall have authority to sell, subdivide, or materially diminish the lands placed in trust, nor shall they derive any personal profit from such a sale should it occur against the intent expressed herein.

“‘Blackwood has buried enough bitterness for one lifetime,’” Eleanor read, her voice softening. “’I will not let this land be carved up again, nor let old grievances decide its fate. Let those who truly love this place tend it.’”

She turned another page.

“In addition,” Eleanor continued, “to Walter Grady, who has faithfully served Blackwood Estate for more than thirty years, I leave my grandfather’s gold pocket watch and the sum of fifty thousand dollars.”

Mary Lou dabbed at her eyes. “Well, that was nice,” she sniffed. “Walter practically kept the place running.”

“‘To my business partner, Bennett McCrae, who already holds a forty percent stake in the operation of Blackwood Estate Winery…” I devise the north ridge property, including the adjoining vineyard, lake parcel, and sixty-two acres bordering the western edge of Blackwood, contingent upon Aubrey Langford satisfying the foregoing conditions.’”

Aubrey’s jaw dropped.

Partner?

Bennett went perfectly still. The color drained from his face.

“What?” he breathed.

“‘The acreage transfer shall only occur if Aubrey Langford fulfills the terms of her inheritance and remains at Blackwood Estate for one year.’”

Aubrey turned toward him so fast her chair nearly tipped. “Partner? You’re a partner?” She looked around the table, corporate instincts flaring. “Excuse me? What kind of game is this? How does a man I met in a bar last night end up with a seat at my family’s table and sixty-two acres of land I didn’t even know existed?” A collective, sharp intake of breath rattled through the room.

Mary Lou gasped, clutching her pearls. June looked horrified, and Red Stephens actually stepped forward, his weathered face hardening.

“Watch your mouth, girl,” Red said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble. “You don’t know a damn thing about what happened here.”

“Aubrey, stop,” Eleanor said, the silk gone from her tone, leaving only steel. “Bennett didn’t ‘convince’ Mabel of anything.”

She set the will down and folded her hands.

“He is a master viticulturist who walked away from a massive career out west. Mabel brought him on six years ago, and he’s been the backbone of this operation ever since.”

Eleanor fixed Aubrey with a level stare.